Plumbley Pootling

Hmm. I seem to be getting slower and slower in my walks. Today I set off without planned a route other than 'I fancy going in that direction over there', there being near Eckington Woods, a parcel of ancient Beech Woods and odd bits of funny shaped plantations, in the middle of rolling arable land where the gamekeepers coax Pheasants to stay a while, breed, eat corn and be shot.

Shooting was actually a bit of a feature-ette too today.

Anyway after the cold weather the fields are streaming with water but despite this the first broad bean shoots are already 4-6 leaves, the barley looks to have survived the earlier snows and now there are bright green shoots of woodland bulbs springing up vibrantly from the woodland floor.

I plodded away from where I'd parked the car; a salubrious neighbourhood where people have thoughtfully 'placed' sofas but not for your comfort, and me becoming slightly more jaunty in a 'my hip IS FINE' sort of way as I entered the Beech trees. I've walked through these woods many times but armed with Viewranger (no Phil, I didn't register my walk on Social Hiking) I decided to go off the normal paths I beat and head off into the wilds. Well that might be a bit of an exaggeration but there is a certain delight in treading on footpaths in familiar areas but which you've never trod before.

It involved a fair bit of mud hopping, sliding, slipping, skating, pirouetting, not quite splitting and damn, I forgot my poles so the odd hand plant was in order.

A pretty dull day, bordering on freezing in the hollows, the clouds hung heavily in the air, odd bits of rain being carried in the air but nothing more than that. A guy passed me wearing a fluorescent yellow hat and blue Ron Hills. He must have been at least 65 and fairly whizzed past me, leaping gazelle like down to sunken farm roads and bounding up onto the muddy fields. How did he manage to look so graceful where I'm as graceful as an elephant on an ice rink?

Oh well, I decided to head off on a different path to him so there was no risk of him lapping me, heading up to cross one of many stiles giving fine views over to old farmsteads and the Sheffield high rises in the distance.

On the next bit of the walk was one of two areas of heath land where the clay gave way to more sandy ground and gorse bushes were in profusion with their almost ever present yellow flowers brightening the surroundings. Coney city; you could see tunnels all over the place.
I decided as I descended the second of these to stop for a brew. I didn't want to brew up on the path so took a mini diversion to the edge of another pocket of woodland, barely more than a thicket but enough to house a Pheasant pen and a few feeding stations. I found a nice banked up, mossy area to park myself on, with my bum sized sit pad (a bit of lurid green CCF mat I've been steadily butchering) and got the Caldera Cone. As a special treat I decided to use the Gram Cracker instead of meths. Half an esbit saw water quickly boiled for a coffee and, joy of joys! I found a Twix finger in my Rucksack. How did that happen? I'm not known for leaving chocolate!

The views into the valley and across to Ford and Ridgeway were lovely. The barley was so bright in the dull winter light and the patterns the tractors had made as the seed was drilled made the landscape seem as if it had been combed into patterns especially for me.

Looking across I was on the edge of more Beech so had a blonde/copper coloured carpet laid out. I just sat for quite some time looking at the views, the patterns of the tree branches and the colours, listening to the birds and watching as the occasional rabbit ventured into the open near me.

Sadly, the brew and Twix finished, I decided to continue through the woodland as a short cut, but as I crossed the area in the photo I could hear a shoot coming closer. Not wanting to be bawled out for trespassing (I was well off the right of way) I turned around and behaved, re-joining the footpath and following the contours through more mud.

Taking a path that followed a field boundary I was surprised to see some stone walls made of more slate like stone under the hedges. The whole line of hedge and wall looked as if it was ancient, although it didn't link any obvious features; it just had a feel about it. Some of the hedge was of tall holly bushes, some ivy; one bush looking like an upturned anvil, defying gravity.

I think this set me off into sensory over drive though as from then on I started studying the hedges and what plants were in them; ferns, rosettes of foxgloves, the beginnings of bulbs, oak saplings and wasp galls, dog roses (I found a hip with the seeds exposed so took a couple to sow), unfurling seedlings of Wood Anemones, tiny Dog Violets just starting to send the first blade of a shoot through the leaf litter, the very first signs of some sort of Umbellifer unravelling tentatively. I even saw some Lamium, white speckled. I wondered if this was a rogue garden plant.

My journey back expanded exponentially as I spent more time looking. My pockets expanded with selections of dead leaves, haws, rose hips, acorn jackets (so I could look up the type of Oak they'd come from). I managed to resist picking up any twigs and branches until the last half mile when I followed the Moss back towards the car. I take fallen samples, a great believer in what Ruskin once said, that to sketch the twig you can sketch the tree. Absorb yourself in the form and understand it, and it will grow from you.

Hens, Forests, Robins: Awakening

This morning I woke at something not very much past 5. This was fine by me as I had wanted to wake early to listen to a broadcast on BBC Radio 4 of an interview with a couple who live in a Yurt on Exmoor, how they live with the land, farming it in a sustainable way, including the wood used for their fire. The couple are called Hen (short for Helen) and Leo.

Some of you may already know of @Hen4 on Twitter. Hen is campaigning for the Save Our Forests campaign (Twitter hashtag #SaveOurForests). The except below is from the 38 degrees website where you can find out lots more, download information including posters and leaflets, and most importantly, sign the petition to help stop this action:
The government is planning a massive sell off of our national forests. They could be auctioned and fenced off, run down, logged or turned into golf courses and holiday villages. 

We can't let that happen. We need to stop these plans. National treasures like the The Forest of Dean, Sherwood Forest and The New Forest could be sold off. Once they are gone, they will be lost forever. 

A huge petition will force the government to rethink its plans. If we can prove how strongly the public are against this, they will have to back down. Please sign the petition now.

Find out more: Visit the save our forests action centre to find out more about the forest sell off and download campaign leaflets and posters.

I would urge you to visit Hen's website to find out more about this remarkable woman, and the interview is available to listen on the BBC website here. (I'm not sure how long for though.)

It's not been the normal start to my mornings but as I write this now, dawn has arrived through magenta and indio skies; the Robin has sung it in.

Physiotherapy - Session 2

Yesterday I had the second session of Physiotherapy for my hip, provided free (so far) on the NHS. It was a bit of a shocker for me but I'll come to that in a bit.

Most of the first half hour session was more administrative, but Rachel had left me instructions for stretches which I mentioned on the last Physio post, and which I have done pretty much faithfully.

I wasn't sure what I'd be in for, but altogether it wasn't that different in approach, just less admin. I showed her the stretches I'd been doing so she could correct my technique, telling her how I'd found it easy to engage the piriformis in my left buttock but couldn't find my right ("It's like I've got half a bum", I told her). A bit of wiggling around to try to engage the muscle did the trick so I'll carry on with that one.

Pleasingly I've got a bit more flexibility in both hips when I have the ankle of one foot on the other knee, but it's still not that good (what's happening to me, I'm not that old yet!).

Then to explore the problem areas more, she held each leg in turn, manipulating my limbs away from, down, up and across from my torso as I lay on the therapy table in a state of calmness alternating with gasps of pain or odd looks as it wasn't quite pain but definitely wasn't quite 'right'. She seemed to register these with a knowing sense of, I dunno, something, experience maybe? Learned knowledge? Anyway, then she had me laying on my back and keeping one leg flat while moving the other knee as close to my chest as she could (which is pretty close!), she asked me what stopped it moving further. I responded very naturally (as I do) by just saying "Fat". Well, I could do with losing a bit of weight and it was an accurate answer!

That got us both laughing!

The bit that had the biggest impact on me though was when she had me laying on my side and lifting the top most leg in the air, feet pointing towards the wall, like the old 80's aerobics classes used to do. I thought "No problem, I can do these in my sleep!" I couldn't have been more wrong. I bet I lifted it all of 3 inches when a) I couldn't lift it any further and, b) I yelped! Houston we have a problem. For my own sanity I turned on to my other side and tried the same movement. No problem. My leg could go up and down til the cows came home. It dawned on me that actually it wasn't a titchy problem that I was making a big deal out of. Honestly, little old ladies could do that better than me (no offense to any little old ladies who may be reading this). She wont even let me do that exercise as homework either, instead I have to just keep my pelvis towards the wall and to open from my knees like a wall-facing clam shell. Oh my God! All my life I have been pretty flexible and taken it for granted pretty much. I was often the strongest, even at school. I can sit and reach waaaaay past my toes. It always puzzled me when people could only reach to their ankles; I'd ask myself, "Why?".

And now I'm in that situation and I don't like it one bit. It scares me a bit to think I could be walking and be 8-12 miles from the car and be struck by the pain I felt when I went walking in the snow before Christmas. Every single step had shooting pain. I am sure back sufferers have something similar.

Well my commitment to getting better is there 100%. I'm charting that I do the exercises, not overdoing it, not doing an at home yoga class unless it's dead easy. I just can't afford to over do it and besides which the pain my body sends my brain will tell me to stop anyway. This is definitely not the time for Chopper Reid and his HTFU approach. I'm seeing her again in two weeks time, same time, same place. Therapy for the body instead of the mind, but like my mind, it's surprising me!

Icebreaker Atlas Womens Long Sleeved Top Review

It's been cold. I feel the cold. I don't like being cold, unless it's my mouth as it drinks down some ice cold Magners on a summer afternoon.

To help not feel cold I have been in pursuit of something decent to wear as the mercury has been plummeting and as such already have in my not very sweaty mits two Icebreaker tops, one a short sleeved Tech T Lite in Bodyfit150 in a pink 'Fiesta' colour, and the other a long sleeved Oasis Crewe in noticeably different Bodyfit200 in black. Gareth at Webtogs asked if I'd like to review some kit for them, and to be honest I am quite happy to do so as long as it doesn't cramp my style (and my readers patience) and the integrity of my blog is maintained. Which means that I have pretty much free rein to praise or criticise as I experience my use of kit. I have also experienced a fair amount of frustration at the lack of reviews of women's kit; something I may address through my blog too to some extent if there is something I want to say.

So, 6 weeks ago Gareth sent me an Icebreaker Atlas Long Sleeved Bodyfit150 top in 'Icicle'.


With all Icebreaker kit, including this, you get the usual User Manual, and the BAAcode (geddit?) where you can lookup on the Icebreaker website to link to the sheep stations where the wool you are wearing came from; a nice little gimmick. I had four stations listed for this, whereas in the past I've been able to see the individual sheep!

The Atlas tops are all crewe necks with raglan sleeves and flatlocked stitching to prevent chafing from seams. They have a diamond shaped gusset under the arms (which this rather stern lady is demonstrating, rather better than my attempts to photograph myself in the same pose!) which in turn lead down to seams that are set slightly forward to aid movement, although with fabric this lightweight there isn't much resistance to movement, but it does mean the shape is maintained. The gusset is slightly different to the other two tops I have, where the Tech T is a basic T-shirt shape and the Oasis long sleeved top has a gusset but with the insert panel running all the way down the sides, rather than joining to form the bottom of a diamond.

I've used this top all over the place; on overnight trips where the temperature reached approx -6C, to just as a normal long sleeved T Shirt. I've worn it for several days constantly, to no smelly detriment, and I've washed it (no fabric softener) and it dries fast, still maintaining a new appearance. It's a nice colour (the pic below of the wrist area is more true to type) and I would wear this like any other top which is something I appreciate for economy's sake!

The main comment I have on this top is that, given the snow we've experienced, a top of this weight just isn't quite warm enough for me. For someone who runs hotter this may not be an issue. When the weather has been milder I've been happier with the performance. It might be worth noting I have also used it double layered with the Tech T and that was fine, giving in effect a 300 weight Bodyfit over my torso and a flexible approach.

Another remark I have is that the fit seems pretty generous, especially over the shoulders and arms. It is the same XL size (16) as my others which are also slightly on the large side.On the other hand, a great plus factor for me is that the arms are long enough; at 5 ft 9 I'm not the tallest woman on the planet but somehow there seems to be plenty of manufacturers who only cater for short arms!





Material
Bodyfit150 Merino wool
Weight
170g
Size
XL (16)
Pros
Washes really well, dries quickly, packs down small but still looks presentable. As we'd expect with Merino, it wicks away any sweat efficiently and without leaving any nasty smells even after a few days wear. Great arm length!
Cons
I would prefer something warmer for colder months and I think the fit is pretty generous; if you are between sizes I'd order one down.
Summary
A top I would happily use when the weather isn't as severe as we've experienced in November/December; I personally would use this in Autumn and Spring, depending on how our chaotic weather pans out!

At the time of writing, Webtogs sell this at £44.95 with free UK delivery

Woodland

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's amazing that, a week after the last proper snow here, the woodland floor seems to almost spring back into life. The beginnings of beech saplings from last year push up through the damp, matted carpet of leaves, bracken fronds made it through but look exhausted, brambles feeling out as ever. The appearance of rabbits, scurrying away under thick entanglements of Holly, gangly and ever present.

The floating leaf carpet is deceptive, one tread and you could be ankle deep in oozing mud or water. Footbridges wobble and sometimes break, or plain disintegrate under my feet, if they are there at all. The brook boasts of springtime youthfulness, bragging where it's carved deeper channels, higher washes, while the sun looks wanly on.

As clouds turn pink the browns reflect that back, too, basking. Overhead the sounds of jousting antlers as trees clash in the tight knit space. Tiny rustles in the undergrowth, as while I am still and writing this, animals become bold or hungry.

My fingers become too cold to clutch my pen, so I release what I've written and let it go.

TGO Challenge Route Planning

Since I found out that I'd got a place on the TGO Challenge crossing back in November, to be honest for some reason I've been a bit half assed in planning my route. I don't know why; I'd already been planning it well before I knew I was in. So a kick up the bum was metaphorically self administered and last week I started planning in earnest. Now I have something like a route that I'm reasonably happy with, but which I'll need to tart up a bit yet before I send it off to be vetted. But my choice of route may not ingratiate some people...

I don't know if it's just me, but I seem to find a preponderance for people to be 'Peak bagging' that is more and more turning me off the scene. There seems to be some sort of kudos for doing this as a reason in itself, but which just doesn't do anything for me. What about the spirit of place?

Maybe as a backlash I'm finding myself drawn more to woodlands and glens and going my own way. I enjoy being on hills, if they have meaning to me. I am not so bothered about hauling my backside up a hill for the sake of saying I've 'done it' whatever 'done it' means. Most of my writing is about how I experience being outdoors and I suppose I'm having a rant at people who just seem to go in for ticklists (yeah I know it's up to them but this is my blog!). I just don't get the point though there are plenty of them out there who seem to live for this approach. Maybe because in my working life I am pretty damn well organised, precise, analytical that I like to leave all that behind and just 'be'. Sometimes I may just want to 'be' in one place for a time. And in thinking about my route I am wondering how I am going to accommodate that, if at all. People sometimes have 'rest days' as if it's a second best experience to being out in the hills, whereas I enjoy being relatively stationary sometimes.

I made a comment on Nick Gallop's blog post, Nature's Attitude Adjuster earlier, a fantastic article that I much appreciated. I loved the phrase "tap into the rhythms of what’s going on around you". Taking time to become more appreciative of the environment, of which we are part, albeit with our oil based kit in ninja black and shades (this dichotomy is becoming harder to swallow for me).

Some of my favourite times are just when I wander. I remember just walking from my house one September morning, wandering footpaths, fields and towpaths, picking blackberries along the way and making jam with them the next day. It was unplanned and inspiring and more than 10 years later that memory is still vivid for me. Yes, I bet there are hills like that for many people, their memories of summiting and standing to stare at the views. I've done it myself and enjoyed it. But not usually with a view of 'right, onto the next'. When I have done that I've tended to forget the hill and experience and it just becomes meaningless. Wandering from my house with my overnight kit is something I've mentioned to a couple of people; something I shall do soon.

Maybe all this is reflected in how I seem to be drawn to woods and moorland; I keep thinking I must re-read BB's Brendon Chase, and Muir, and yet more Thoreau, and am finding myself steered towards more bushcraft type of blogs and nature writing, rather than just UL backpacking. Steering away from so many gear blogs and towards experience blogs. So I am so pleased that Miguel is blogging again! I'm thinking about being more in harmony with the environment, resisting oil based kit. After not long ago opening my eyes to silnylon, cuben fibre et al, I'm now starting to feel the need to shut them again. It's a mental wrangle I'm not sure if I'm going to win. Is a few grams worth that much? (I feel like an heretic!)

So yes, in planning my TGO route I am mindful of wanting to experience the sense of place of those I pass through, the stories of the land, not just a tick list "yes, I've bagged x mountain, now to the next". I want to savour it and enjoy it all, not just the A to B + Xn.

First Walk of The Year

Picking up on the theme of feeling proud, I got out for a short walk in the Peak District today. Of course I loved it! Not quite every moment of it, but just the act of putting one foot in front of another in a repetitive, rhythmical motion certainly had me feeling bright, breezy and slightly righteous!



I respected the limitations of my hip with keeping the walk short (4.5 miles and on the flat, pretty much) but still enjoyed a bit of springiness with some short hopping from boulder to boulder. That is until the cold wind penetrated, with rain and the start of snow driving across the moors and into me; the first obstacle before the hills.





The views across to Carl Wark and Higger Tor were as mysterious and thought provoking as usual. Different angles revealed different aspects, it's just a place that makes me feel so aware.

Twisting and turning across and inbetween the strewn about boulders, it seemed there were individual micro climates. Well worn areas where sheep nestled in the dips and hollows, descending towards small fords that needed to be crossed. These had their own character and charm.

At one point I came across some puddles fringed with sedges, moss and grasses, reminding me of tropical palms leaning over a beach. I guess it was from this point on that 'Midnight at the Oasis' drummed through my head until I reached the end of the walk...


I carried along Burbage Rocks for about the mile and a half or so to the head of the valley (Fiddlers Elbow) where I could drop down a level onto the shooting party road (I forget the name; it's not a road but just a path that leads through the valley to Longshaw). By now the weather had deteriorated into snow where I was, and looking over the valley where before I could see this end of Stanage, now it was lost in the mist.

Dropping down the 30 metres or so and being sheltered by the rocks was like dropping into another climate. No more driving weather, instead a benign environment with pleasant (though not extensive) views. I didn't really mind either way; it was just great to get outside. I didn't stop for a brew, very unlike me. But I did notice how the snow and ice was retreating in it's thaw, retracting from embracing the ground but still holding the grounds shape in remembrance.

A few people were about now, and it was interesting to tell from their clothing who were regular walkers and who were out for their occasional foray into the outdoors (I wouldn't wear jeans on a day like today). Most said "Hello" and a couple even said "Happy New Year", which I returned before looking at the ice on a tumbling brook.

But a cup of tea was calling me back to the shelter of the car, and soon I moved off on a beautiful walk through the twisted Beechwood with the fairy tale stones and silent pools.

Resolutions? Or Something a Little Different?

A New Year, a New Decade.

My mind has been a turmoil of what to set for resolutions. I've set mountains to climb, habits to drop, habits to replace them.

But actually I think I might drop that and instead replace it with a different thought.

"What have YOU done today to make you feel PROUD?"

Yes, I shall make plans; I think it's great to set goals. But, surely if I hold fast to this thought, this question, then I can't go far wrong?